Bob's Revenge
by LikeWoahhh
Summary: It'll be slow, Bob continued. And painful. But it'll be over before you know it.
1. KABLAM

This story is not one where everyone lives happily ever after, and I'm writing it because it's an idea I've had for awhile. Seriously dude. So now... THE FIRST CHAPTER.

**Chapter One  
**_Bob's POV_

I didn't think it was possible when I was alive, but now, as I stepped into the body of Johnny Cade, I found it was actually... possible. Spirits could posess humans. I mean, why should he get off scot-free? Exaclty, he shoudln't. Sure, we beat him and jumped him and pretended like nothing happened, but we didn't _kill him_, did we? No.

Being inside a person, it's weird. You see everything through their eyes. It's like you're... them. You feel cold... chilly, even. Whichever word you want to use. And me? I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to make every single one of them pay, one by one.

They'd get theirs, and certainly what they deserved. Those whiny little greasers, with their hair all greased back. They thought they were so tough. Well really, how are _they _tough, or even _tuff_? They think they had it sooo bad, but obviously I have it worse than _they _do. I mean, _I'm_ the one who's _dead_. Besides, why should I have died? That little black haired kid should've. Really, he obviously didn't have a purpose in life, unlike me. I could've done wonderful things... 

It's now four months after my death, and that kid, Cade, just got out of juvie. What better time to get revenge? Just when he thinks his life is getting better, **KABLAM**. I strike. (A/N: Heehee. Kablam. Bob is a conceited fuck.)

He'd just stepped out of the building, and his friends ran up to him and literally squeezed him to death. Man, you can feel what the person feels too... damn, this is weird. It'll take some getting used to.

I couldn't help but notice that his parents weren't there. ...But Cherry was. Cherry, my girlfriend. A soc. Someone who isn't even supposed to associate with greasers. But here she was, hugging him along with the rest of them. That... that... _bitch_. (A/N: You said it Bob. Or in this case, I did?)

That just made me angrier. I wanted to mash some greaser bones, maybe give 'em all a haircut... right below the chin. I wanted to kill them all, even Cherry, right at that moment. Right outside the building, where everyone could see.

But no, I had to have more composure than that. I had to wait. I'd commit their deaths soon, but not now. But I decided I'd give him a little _something _since he was obviousl trying to steal my girlfriend, even though we're not really dating anymore...

I could control him if I wanted. That explained how I got him to walk straight into a wall, making him at least feel _some _hurt and look like an idiot too.

"You okay Johnnycakes?" asked the youngest one who I recognized as the boy we had tried to drown.

"I dunno..." he replied uncertainly. "I didn't walk into the wall... It's like... like... nevermind."

Obviously he didn't think they would believe him, and I was pretty sure he had some idea of what was going on. He at least knew that something was wrong with him. I'd have to steer clear of stunts like that one for awhile, anyway. They'd get too suspicious.

"It's great to have 'ya back, Johnnycakes," said one with side-burns and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt.They all agreed to that. Cherry and one boy with really light blonde hair didn't say anything. Maybe Cherry was still upset about my death! And the blonde kid, well, I don't know what the hell his problem was, not like I cared.

Soon they were all laughing and joking, until the oldest one said they should get home. Instantly, I'd found my first target. I don't know why, but I was gonna do it.

Bob strikes tonight.


	2. Darry's Dead

Oh god. Chapter TWO. Bob's first target. Uh, great?

**Chapter Two**

_"What are you doing!"_

"I- I can't stop!"

"Johnny do-"

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

The weather was stormy and the rain was coming down hard now. Everyone was asleep, even the kid who was currently posessed by me...

I pulled myself, or in this case, him, off the couch and walked briskly into the kitchen. There were man kinds of kinves. Plastic knives, kitchen knives, butter knives... But when my eyes rested on the butcher knives, I knew exaclty what I had to do. It was tempting, but I didn't need to be forced to do what I was about to do.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the large, silver blade and tiptoed into the eldest Curtis' room. God, do people ever look peaceful when they're sleeping. Too bad he wouldn't be peaceful for too long.

Down went the knife, slowly at first, and then faster.

Then... he woke up.

We kinda looked at eachother for a couple of seconds before he noticed the knife that was practicallly at his throat now. The look on his face was priceless. I guess his friend wasn't the type of person to do this stuff, especially for no reason at all. Anyway, he looked pretty shocked.

"Johnny, what are you doing?" He asked tiredly. Johnny. So that was the kids name.

It was then that I realized the kid was awake too, and his, or, our, eyes were widened with as much fear as... er... Darry's?

"I- I can't stop," he said shakily, as I forced him to run the kinfe slowly over his neck.

I raised the knife again.

"Johnny, do-"

This time, I brought the knife down. It was as quick as that. There was blood all over the pillow, and Darry? Well, Darrel Curtis was dead.

I forced the kids lips into a smirk, and threw the knife down on the pillow.

With no regret, or even guilt, I scooped up his body and carried it into the backyard.

The kid was shaking so much he could barely hold the shovel. But I eventually got a hole dug, and smirked again as his body was loaded into the hole and covered instantly. No coffin, no nothing. It'd just be left to rot.

Now they'd know how I felt. Or at least he did. So far.

"I control you now," I said, only the words came from his own mouth. It was like having a conversation with... yourself.

There was no answer.

BOB KILLED DARRY.  
Haha. xD So maybe it's not that funny.


	3. Ponyboy's Discovery?

Mkay, I wrote half of this then spent 35 minutes writing a biography on my best  
friend for school...my hand hurts. So it might be short. Spare me. REASON with  
me. MY. HAND. HURTS.

**Chapter Three**

When asked where Darry was the kid didn't tell them about someone posessing him. Besides, if your best friend walk up to you and said;; "Hey, someone posessed me and forced me to kill your eldest brother", would you believe them? Probably not.

So, when the youngest Curtis brother stepped into the living room, after looking everywhere for his brother, he turned to the k- Johnny. That's his name, right? Anyway, he sighed.

"Did Darry leave early for work again?"

Not looking at him, he nodded.

That caused the boy to go into an endless rant about how Darry worked too much. But hey, at least they wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. Besides, he'd be gone soon with his brother. No need to miss him. All of them would be gone... much, much sooner than they planned to be.

The boy then ventured into what appeared to be Darry's room.

Johnny's eyes widened, and he rushed to block the door, but wasn't fast enough. The other kid's eyes landed on the blood-stained pillow, and they widened.

They both kind of stood there for a minute, the boy staring at Johnny and Johnny looking away.

"Johnny," the boy started, his voice sounding unstable and weak. "Johnny, what did you do?"

The kid would not meet his eyes. He looked anywhere but at the other boy, which was stupid. He was letting him know that he did something wrong. He was acting guilty.

"_The best thing to do when you're guilty is play it cool,_" I hissed, or, well, thought. My thoughts end up in his head since we kind of share the same body...

The sound of my voice, which I think he finally recognized, sent shivers up his spine and the hairs on his arms stood up instantly.

The scared expression on the other's face increased, and I couldn't help but grin to myself a little.

_"Get it now? This is **revenge**." _I snarled.

Without warning, the kid bolted out the door, leaving the youngest... uh... boy to stare after him, a shocked, confused and slightly frightened expression on his face.

He dragged us all the way to the vacant lot. His fear, my thrill.

_"Having fun?" _

No answer. I hadn't expected one.

_"You've gotta say something."_

I still expected no answer, but instead, he spoke.

"Why are you doing this?"

This time, it was my time to leave him without an answer.


	4. Target Steve

**Chapter Four**

That night, I picked my second target.

The kid had never went back to the Curtis'. He was probably afraid of what they'd say, afraid they all knew what 'he' had done. Basically, he didn't want to face them. I could feel it.

"No more," he whispered. "No more! Leave them alone..."

I laughed wickedly in my mind, or rather, his mind, and smirked.

"Why? Why should I?"

The kid shook his head.

"They didn't do anything to you! It was me. Kill _me. _Punish _me._"

"I plan to." I said coldly, smirking to myself again. I planned to make them all suffer, and kill them all too. One by one, they'd all figure out how it felt to be dead. And I'd go back to hell to rot, not like I cared. Getting revenge was enough for me.

With that said, I started controlling his legs, making him walk in the direction of the Curtis' once again.

Although he struggled, I managed to get him up the stairs and through the door.

Standing over the middle Curtis' best friend, the butcher knife in my hand once more... I brought the knife down. But what happened next I hadn't expected at all. Trembling, the kid called out.

"Steve! Wake up! MOVE!"

The boys eye fluttered open, and he moved just in time to avoid the knife I was about to stab right through his heart. Like Darrel had, he looked both frightened and confused.

"Johnny, what...?"

He had to move again to excape my second attempt at drilling the knife through his chest.

"It's Bob... H-he's..."

I succeeded just before he could get the words out. And there lay Steve Randle, my second target. Dead. Dead as a doorknob.

As if on impulse, the kid started shaking again, tears threatening to fall.

"I... I can't believe you just did that," he whispered.

"Well, believe it," I said, grinning cruely and scooping up the body in his arms.

He cringed when his hand and the body's skin touched.

Then, I, or, WE, carried him out into the back yard, dug a hole again, and burried him right next to Darry.

"Now to do something about that blood on the floor."

**So, it's short and Bob is physco.**


	5. Authors Note :l READ

**This is an important authors note.  
I, can not write anymore.  
Read my profile.  
Just do it...  
Maybe I'll write more in the future, when I don't 'suck' at writing.  
Right now, I'm pissed.  
And sad.  
At the same time.  
Plus, I never knew simple words from people I don't even know  
could hurt me that much, and completely crush whatever confidence  
I had left.  
Right now I just need someone to make me feel better, if you care.**

Thanks.


	6. Catching On

Um. No comment. I'm not getting into things, just don't flame or I swear to god I will delete every  
story on my account and just quit. Thanks.

**Chapter Five  
**_Anyone's POV_

Ponyboy watched in silence as Johnny bolted through the door, shocked. He couldn't have done what he was thinking... could he? No, not Johnny. He would never do something like that. _Never_. I mean, that's just Johnny. We're talking about the kid that wouldn't hurt a fly...

There was something wrong.

Ponyboy had had that feeling for awhile now, ever since he had seen Johnny run into that wall that one day. That had only happened a couple days ago. And what had Johnny said? Something about not meaning to? Odd.

Anyway, as soon as Johnny was out the door, Soda walked in, stretching and yawning.

"Hey Pony," he said, ruffling the hair of his younger sibling as he passed.

In his mind, he was debating whether or not to tell Soda about his 'discovery', and what was going on with Johnny. Or, what he thought was going on.

"Soda..." he started, still not sure if it was a good idea to share his thoughts.

"Yeah little buddy?"

"Well," he said, not really sure how to get the words out. "I've been doing some research... I mean, I've noticed Johnny's been even jumpier than usual, and... well, look in Darry's room."

Giving him a confused look, he walked into the room. Of course, the first thing he noticed was the pillow that was still stained crimson red with blood.

"Ponyboy-"

But Ponyboy just kept going on, his voice growing more hoarse and frantic the more he spoke.

"And you know someone's been digging up the back yard right? In the grass area. Not too smart, if you ask me. And there's... two holes beside eachother, like something's been buried there."

Soda looked thoughtful, but still confused.

"What are you getting at Pony?"

"What if..." He could hardly manage to choke out the words. "What if there was someone... controling Johnny?"

**Well, I actually think that was fine. Plus, my dad bought me pizza so it made me  
even happier.**


	7. Bob is Busteddd

I have no idea what to update anymore, and I have another idea for  
a story I wanna make so... yeah.

**Chapter Six**

Ponyboy and Soda took one shovel each, knowing what the had to do. They had to dig up whatever was burried there. Neither one of them knew what to believe, but there wasn't part of the grass dug up for no reason, was there? Of course, we all know what they're gonna find...

"Are you sure we should do this?" Soda asked, eyeing the two mounds of dirt uneasily. He looked as if he might throw up already, and they hadn't even found the corpses.

Ponyboy nodded.

"At least if we do we'll finally know the truth."

So, they set to work, digging and digging.

"Um, I just him something," Ponyboy said and Soda could tell just by the tone of his voice that he too was nervous and uneasy about this whole thing.

"Dig it up," he responded, almost regretting the words.

Ponyboy did what he was told.

But what they found was something they'd never have expected to find. Especially in their back yard, of all places. It was terrible. There, in the dirt, lay the head of their eldest brother, Darrel Curtis.

The two dropped their shovels and backed away from the dirt, horrified.

"P-Ponyboy, I thought Darry was working!"

"That's what Johnny said," he replied, eyes wide with fear.

"Johnny!" Soda said, his voice seeming to break. "Johnny wouldn't do this."

"I told you," Ponyboy said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I think... I think Johnny's posessed."

But then, Soda's eyes locked on the other dirt mound, and he started to shake. Uncontrollably.

"So... if Darry's buried there, then who's buried there?"

Ponyboy shruddered, but they set to work again, curious. Too curious for their own good, perhaps.

"Oh my-" Soda groaned, seeing the body of his best friend lying in the ground, next to his officially dead brother.

"Pony... Oh god, this can't be happening."

If possible, Ponyboy's eyes were wider than before. He'd never liked Steve much, and Steve had never really liked him, but _this? _This was too much.

And without warning, both boys started to shake and sob uncontrollably.

**Oh dear. How tragicallll. BUT WHAT WILL BOB DO WHEN  
HE FINDS OUT THEY KNOW HIS SECRET? Damn, Bob is  
busteddd. xD**


	8. Four Down

I suggest listening to How To Save A Life by The Fray. The lyrics are in my profile. :D Bob is in italics.  
And I am now updating this. For Sarah. Aka Flag. xD

**Chapter Seven**

The... er... two boys watched as the remaning Curtis brothers dug up the bodies of both their eldest brother and their friend. They watched as they sobbed, and ran back into the house. Probably to throw up. They hadn't even bothered to put the corpses back in the ground.

Johnny started shaking again.****

_"So they know our little secret."_

He shook his head, knowing what Bob was thinking. Soda and Pony would soon face the same fate as Steve and Darry had.

"No," he said, despite the fact that there were people nearby. To them it looked as if he was talking to _himself_. That doesn't seem very sane, does it?

_"Yes."_

Johnny didn't even try to argue again. He knew he couldn't stop him no matter how much he begged and pleaded. No one could stop him.

000

That night, like the two nights before, they snook into the Curtis' house again. Dally was asleep on the couch, and Two-Bit, who had probably been drunk, was asleep on the floor. He most likely passed out. Sodapop and Ponyboy, of course, were in their room.

As quietly as he could, Bob made Johnny's legs move across the floor, until they finally reached the door to the bedroom. 

Still trying to be quiet, he slowly opened the door. Pony and Soda looked so peaceful sleeping...

He jammed the knife through both their hearts, seeming to care even less than Dallas, and that was pretty hard. Dally cared about nothing. No one. That's what he said, anyway. That's what he'd like everyone to believe. However, it wasn't the truth.

_"Serves them right, wouldn't you say?"_

However, he got no answer because, at that moment, Johnny had finally broken down. He tried to force the knife through his own chest, but Bob forced him to drop it.

_"You'll get to do that soon enough. But not now."_

Johnny sighed.

_"Four down, two to go."_

And then, there were only three greasers left. But not for long...

**GOD, FINALLY. Holy crap. I can't write when I'm bored. It's impossible.**


	9. Attempt Failed

Haha I never knew people talked about my stories. But some of the 'rumours' gave me an ideaaa. Whoo.

**Chapter Eight**

Ponyboy and Soda watched from the closet as Johnny, or rather, Bob, stabbed the clothes they'd stuffed with sheets. There was also wigs on top of the two cabbages. Brilliant, right? Oh yeah.

Since it was dark, they couldn't tell who they were stabbing either way. But what was the next step? What could they do now? There was only one thing _to _do... Whether it would work or not, they'd soon find out. After all... excorsisim doesn't necsarrily always work.

Soda leafed trough the phonebook, but the only excosist he found in Tusla was "Excorsist Edward- Unexperienced."

"We want someone experienced though, don't we?" Ponyboy asked.

Soda sighed.

"It's the best we can do."

000

Edward the excorsist showed up about twenty minutes later, and he looked like a crack head. Really, he did. He was dressed in a priest outfit, and had large, large glasses. (A/N: think of Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. In a priest outfit.)

" 'Ello boys," he said, seeming to have a french accent.

Ponyboy and Sodapop stared at eachother, not knowing what to think of this man.

"Er... Hi."

The man however, continued on.

"Where is ze posessed boy, eh?"

Sodapop pointed out the window to lot lot, where Johnny was sitting alone. He hadn't been over at all since Ponyboy had seen the blood-covered pillow.

"Alright, I'll zee what I can do," he said, opening the door and walking across the street.

He approached Johnny slowly, as if he might attack at any given moment.

"You have a problem with a spitit, I zee."

Johnny looked up slowly, and stared at the man with wide eyes, but he nodded.

_"Idiot."_

The man lifted his arms up, and spoke some words in some weird language. Then, he lowered his arms, and waved his hands.

"Be gone, evil spirit!"

"Foolish living person," Bob spoke, the words, of course, coming out of Johnny's mouth, only in Bob's voice.

Edward the excorsist got in his car quickly, and sped down the street at full speed, as Ponyboy and Sodapop watched from the living room window.

Edward the excorsist moved from Tusla, and never retured, afraid the spirit would come after him.

And there was nothing else they could do now but wait.


	10. Backstabber

I haven't updated this in awhile. And thanks to Flag for giving me basically the idea for this chapter. :D

**Chapter Nine**

Since killing both Soda and Ponyboy at the same time hadn't worked out at all, Bob decided to do... one at a time. He decided that Ponyboy would be first. However, he decided to take a different approach.

You see, Bob discovered that he could force Johnny to say things. This was _not_ good for Ponyboy.

_"Are you gonna say it, or do I have to make you?"_

"I'm not saying-"

_"Fine, I'll make you."_

With that, Bob began to walk him in the direction of Ponyboy's school. 

At the moment, he was at track practice, which meant that all they had to do was lure him away from the other members of the team and... well... yeah.

As soon as he saw the bleached hair of the youngest Curtis, Bob immediantly jogged Johnny over to where he was just picking up his school bag from the ground, obviously getting ready to head home.

"Hey," Johnny, or rather, Bob, said.

Ponyboy gave him an odd look, but just stood frozen in place.

"It's okay," 'Johnny' assurred him. "Bob's gone."

How Ponyboy could've been so gullible, no one knew.

"Really?"

"Yeah. That excorsisim actually worked."

A look of relief came over Ponyboy's face, and he dared to walk closer. Too bad.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about Darry and Steve..."

Bob forced a sympatheic smile to Johnny's face.

Ponyboy sighed.

"Yeah, we might have to go to a boys home..."

Right then, Bob saw the perfect oppourtunity. Stepping forward, he embraced Ponyboy in a hug and began to pull the butcher knife from his pocket once more.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Sorry you're so gullible!"

Ponyboy started to pull away, a shocked, confused and frightened expression on his face. But he wasn't quick enough.

Smirking, Bob leaned over and pulled the knife out of his back.

"Looks like you're a backstabber, Cade."


	11. You're Next

**Chapter Ten**

_"What are we gonna do about the bills?"_

The question that had been running through Sodapop's mind all day. Now that their brother and friend (well, Steve and Ponyboy had been more like acquaintances) were dead, they had to figure out a way to deal with the bills. And what if the social worker showed up?

Now, Soda couldn't pay all the bills with his poor excuse for a pay check and Pony _had_ to go through school. Darry had always wanted that for him. Hell, Darry had always wanted that for _himself. _To go through school, I mean.

Now that Johnny was posessed and killing off each member of the gang one by one, it didn't seem that things could get any worse. But they did. They always do. Just when you think everything's perfect, that nothing worse could happen, something much, much worse _does. _

At that moment, the doorbell rang and Sodapop froze in fear. Was it the social worker?

He wasn't sure if he should ignore it and pretend they weren't home, or be a man and answer the damn door. Maybe it was the social worker. Maybe it was Johnny, ready to plunge a knife through his chest the moment he answered the door. Either way, it wouldn't be pretty.

Finally deciding he'd answer the door, he approached it, his hand reaching out for the knob. He was obviously dreading finding out who was on the other side.

And he opened the door.

At first he didn't see anything, but once his eyes lowered to the ground, he saw... you guessed it, a corpse. The corpse of the only brother he'd had left. The corpse of Ponyboy, with a note attached to his forhead. Soda didn't even have to pick it up, he could read the bold letters perfectly.

**'You're next.'**

Thinking quickly, he dragged the body into the house. It wouldn't look all that promising if there was a dead body laying on his front porch. It'd look even worse if the social worker came and saw a dead body... ugh.

Suddenly, the door flew open.

Soda whirled around, expecting to find Johnny there, the butched knife held high, glittering in the sunlight... But isntead he found Two-Bit and Dally. The two of them were looking from him to Ponyboy's body, unreadable expressions on their faces.

"My god Soda, what the fuck did you do?"

His eyes wide, Soda backed away. They thought _he _did this.

"I didn't do anything! It was... Johnny..."

At that, Dallas snorted. He hadn't shared his and Ponboy's little 'secret' with them yet.

"Johnny wouldn't do this man."

"And you think_ I _would?! Listen, Johnny... he's been posessed by Bob or awhile now. Man, I don't even know what to make of this. First, he killed Darry, then Steve... now Pony. Damnit!"

"Woah," Two-Bit said, grinning despite the fact that his friend was laying dead on the floor. "You sure you didn't smoke somethin' you weren't supposed to Soda?"

He vigorously shook his head, and began to explain the whole twisted story.

At the end of it, Dallas lit a smoke and shook his head.

"Shit man, that's fucked. Why don't we just use excorisim on-"

"WE TRIED!" Soda screamed, louder than he intended to. He just... snapped.

"Hey, dont fuckin' yell and scream at me, Curtis! I'd beat the tar out of you if you hadn't just lost your brothers and your best fuckin' friend!" Dallas snapped, equally as loud.

"I'm sorry!" Soda sighed. "What are we gonna do?"

"There's nothing we can do," Two-Bit said gravely.


	12. Sorry Sarah :o

Woah, I seriously need to update. So here it is.

Oh, and here's the reason he's not moving; He doesn't even have money to pay bills, let alone buy a house. And if he moved in with someone else, he'd still be in Tusla, and Bob could still kill him. ;D

**Bob's Revenge  
**_Chapter Eleven_

Soda, alone in the house, couldn't sleep at all that night. Two-Bit had decided to stay at his own house (for once), and Dallas had declared that he was staying at Buck's.

When he'd accused them of being afraid of Bob, they'd completely denied it. And Dally looked ready to punch him in the face for even _suggesting_ that he was scared. Everyone knew that he wasn't scared of _anything_. But everyone's scared of something, right?

The moonlight shone through the curtains that were slightly drawn back, so that Soda could see when he was coming, and maybe even escape. It gave off an era of spookiness that he wasn't quite sure he liked.

After a couple more minutes of waiting, and finding that no one had come, he sighed in relief.

"Might as well go have a shooooo- woah."

Something, or rather, someone was standing in the corner of the room, watching every move he made.

Without thinking, he started to scream. And I mean _scream_.

The person quickly rushed over to him, clamping a rough, sweaty hand over his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, Soda! It's me!"

Pulling away, gasping and sputtering, Soda glared at whoever had just gotten their sweat in his mouth.

"Who's _me_?"

"Dally. Why the fuck are you so paranoid?"

Soda made sure he was a safe enough distance away before replying. Bob could just be impersonating Dally.

"You saw that note."

"What? The one that said-"

But Dallas never got to finish his sentence. Why? Becuase before he could, he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap at Soda's feet.

It wasn't hard to miss the kinfe that was sticking out of his back.

And Soda screamed again at the sight of who had been standing behind him. Johnny. Or, Bob. Hell, why don't we just call him Johnob?

He was staring in shock at the body of the one he had looked up to and admired the most, stunned. Too stunned to cry, to stunned to even talk. But he didn't have to.

Bob approached Soda in one quick step, a machette in hand, and chopped his head right off his shoulders.

He didn't even have time to scream.


	13. Why?

**A/N: **I have really bad writers block, but for some reason I just NEED to write.  
I kinda died for awhile, didn't I?  
It's time I brought this story back to life.

**Disclaimer:**  
I own nothing. Blah blah blah.  
I wish I did.****

Bob's Revenge  
_Chapter Twelve_

Two-Bit, after returning to the Curtis' after spending a night at his own house, gasped at what he saw. At what was on the carpet. There lay the bodies of another two of his friends. Soda and Dally. He was doing everything he could to keep from sobbing as he sank to his knees, because everyone knows greasers don't cry. Dallas never cried. Never. He had to be strong. For-

_Creaaaaaaak._

Two-Bit hardly dared to move. He didn't even turn around to face the stairway, knowing who was there and what was coming. He was scared. Frightened. Maybe more frightened than he had been in his life. But he was angry, too. He was angry for obvious reasons. Bob had killed almost _all _of his friends. His _best_ friends.

Taking a deep breath, he made a quick move for the door, but Johnny's body was placed in front of it, blocking it. The only other exit was the back door, so he headed for that. But, again, Bob forced Johnny to block it.

Anger flashing in his eyes, he took a step back and shook his head.

"_Why_ are you doing this?"

"Because!" the voice of Bob Sheldon raged. "Because! I have a future! I'm not a hood! Why should _he _haved lived while I died? _Why_?!"

Two-Bit was thankful for the conversation which, in a way, was saving time. The more time they wasted, the more minutes he could be alive for. But he thought Bob sounded a little conceited, like he thought he was better than Johnny. But of course, socs had always thought they were better than greasers. They had more money, better, more expensive clothes, better homes...

"Johnny's a good kid," he said, his voice frowing louder with each word. "You, on the other hand, deserved to die. None of the gang di-"

At that moment, Johnny's hands snatched a large saw from against the door, and Bob slowly made his way toward's Two-Bit. Johnny's lips were curled into a cruel smirk- a smirk that wasn't like Johnny at all. But Johnny wasn't in control of himself. Bob was.

"You wanna finish that sentence?" Bob's voice asked. "You wanna make me _angry_, huh?" He traced his finger along the saw and smirked evily as Two-Bit's skin paled a bit. Bob knew he was scared, and that just encouraged him even more. "What's the matter? Are you _scared_? Is a _greaser_ scared?"

Two-Bit gulped and headed for the living room, but before he could make it, a knife swerved past the side of his face, leaving a small gash that started to bleed instantly.

"Fuck," he muttered, holding his hand to his face. "You're insane. You really are."

Bob bellowed in rage, the saw dropping from his hands. Two-Bit saw this as an oppourtunity, and bent over to pick it up. Of course, Bob wouldn't have that, and held a knife to the side of his throat, that evil grin returning.

"You sure you wanna do that?"

Two-Bit looked up, the fear obvious in his eyes. He got to his feet and watched as Bob picked the saw up again.

"You're trouble. And most of all, you're a hood. A no-good, trouble-making _hood. _But don't worry, this won't hurt a bit." And with that he plugged in the saw and pulled the cord. It immediantly sprang to life, and Two-Bit's eyes widened. He was really going to do this. He was really going to... to kill him. 

"It'll be slow," Bob continued. "And painful. But it'll be over before you know it."

He sliced a deep gash in his throat. He sliced four more gashes. Five. Ten. Twelve. And once he was satisfied, he raised the saw, and chopped the head right off the body.

Blood was everywhere, and he was proud of what he'd done.

He was proud.


	14. OMGDZ SUIDIDE!

**Bob's Revenge  
**_ Chapter Twelve (or thirteen?)_

**  
A/N:** So I haven't updated/written anything in forever, so I obviously  
can't be blamed if it sucks. Ha.

**Disclaimer:** I own absoloutely nothing, so calm down. All credit for the book   
goes to S.E. Hinton.

Dead. His friends were _dead. _He couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that he- Johnny, had killed his very own friends, whether he had been posessed or not. He should never have killed Bob. But if he hadn't... He was just protecting Ponyboy. So why was he being punished for keeping his friend alive? Why was this _happening _to him? He pondered just ending it all as he sat in the Curtis' bathroom, where he'd quickly rushed to after getting one look at Two-Bit's dead body. It had been the bloodiest and goriest by far, having been done with a saw.

He hadn't moved from the bathroom floor in nearly three days now. He didn't think he could. Every muscle in his body ached, and he felt... dead. Not to mention that fact that his stomach was grumbling, showing that he needed to eat, seeing as all he'd been doing lately was throwing up. But he ignored it and continued feeling sorry for himself and his friends.

Fingering the switchblade in his back pocket, he wondered; "Why not just end it all now?" But truthfully, he'd pondered this more than a few times, and had found that he plain and simply didn't have the _guts_. He couldn't do it.

_'Do it,' _Bob coaxed. _'It's not like you've got anything left anyway, other than two parents that hate your-'_

"NO!" Johnny screamed suddenly.

His voice echoed off the walls, echoed in the silence. It was almost enough to drive him completely insane.

"They don't."

_'Sure they do. Really kid, just end it all. What do you have left?'_

Johnny pondered this. What _did _he have left? What? He had never in all his life had any friends other than the gang, and none of his relatives that were still alive lived anywhere near Tusla. Besides, he didn't even know any of them. His family never had family reunions. He didn't figure they were 'the type.' Besides, if his parents were how they were, he didn't even want to imagine what the rest of his family was like.

Taking the knife completely out of his pocket, he turned it over in his hands and heaved a sigh. He _wanted_ to, but he just _couldn't. _He couldn't take the blade and shove it through his chest. He wasn't brave enough for that, and besides, the sight of blood made him sick. He'd be throwing up while he was dieing. How great would that be?

But now that he thought about it, stomach felt completely empty, hacing not eaten or moved in, as I said before, almost three days.

_'Answer me kid. What do you have left?'_

"Nothing," Johnny said simply. There was no use in denying it anymore. He had nothing, no one, left. There wasn't anyone stopping his from thrusting the knife into his chest, or running it across his wrist until he hit a vein. He could watch the blood pour out, and puke while doing so. But of course, he wasn't brave enough to do it.

As he listened to the rain pounding on the roof outside, he decided to leave the house and go to the lot or something, because now it held too many bad memories. Every time he walked into the living room all he could picture was hit slashing up Two-Bit's body with the chainsaw over and over and over. And he saw himself killing Dally, his _idol. _He had killed his idol. He had killed his friends. He didn't see why he should live while they were dead. And besides, he didn't_ want _to live if they weren't alive.

Stumbling out onto the porch, he climbed down the stairs and swiftly made his way across the street, ignoring the yelling and screaming coming from his own house. He wished he could just block it out.

His back against a tree, he took the knife out of his pocket once more. He was ready for it this time, he was going to do it. This was what he wanted, after all. He had no desire to live anymore, so why bother?

Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he finally plunged the knife into a spot just below his ribcage. The pain was intense, but it was even worse once he ribbed the knife across his stomach, creating a semi-deep gash. It would probably take awhile for him to die completely, he realized, as a red mustang pulled up in the parking lot. He knew there were probably about four or five socs in there. They were probably watching him, probably thinking he was asleep. But it wasn't like he'd care if they decided to beat the shit out of him, despite the fact that he was already injured pretty badly. After all, he was going to die anyway. It wasn't like it mattered.

They got out of the car (four or five of them, as he'd expected) and made their way towards him, stumbling along the way. He figured they were drunk. Most socs liked to get smashed before looking for greasers to beat up. And indeed, when one of the socs leaned down to examine him, he could smell the cheap wine on his breath, and even hear his ragged breathing.

"Looks like he was cut or something. You still think we should teach him a lesson?"

_'Teach me a lesson?' _Johnny thought. If he wasn't trying to stay quiet, he would've snorted out loud. Why didn't they just say 'Still think we should beat the shit out of him?'. It was much more appropriate, and much more true. They wouldn't really be teaching him any lessons, they'd just be kicking the shit out of him.

"He's gonna die anyway," another soc replied. "We might as well try and make it happen quicker."

Of course. OF COURSE! Of course they would choose to beat him up. And what was worse was that they had themselves convinced that they were doing him a favour. But now his death was going to be even more painful than it had to be.

His eyes squeezed shut as the four or five socs piled on top of him and started beating him harshly. Luckily though, they steered clear of the gash that blood was flowing out of, getting on the grass, Johnny's t-shirt, and the soc's fingers. They punched everywhere they could as he lay there with the rain pouring onto this body and getting inside his cut. At least it washed away some of the blood, though.

He didn't really mind that the socs were hitting him- after all, he was pretty used to it. And even though blood was now spouting from his nose and felt as though it was broken, he couldn't care less. He was going to die. He was going to die at sixteen years old and he couldn't have cared less. The socs could beat him. Hell, his father could come outside and join them. He just didn't _care_ anymore. He had nothing left to live for, and he was glad that in matter of minutes he _wouldn't_ be living anymore.

And suddenly, death was upon him. His heart completely stopped, and he began gasping for air. It wouldn't be long now. The socs seemed to realize this too, because they instantly took off in their fancy car.

_'So kid, you've done it. You've ended your life. But it doesn't even matter, because I've got what I wanted. Revenge.'_

And with that, Johnny died.

-END


End file.
